Yesterday it rained most of the day. The rain was loud and heavy and hammered the roof and windows. The dogs chose to stay inside and wait it out until late in the afternoon when the rain lessened. Henry barely made it down the stairs. Nala ran into the backyard. I think I heard sighs of relief. Today is beautiful. It is 50° and sunny.

The other day I watched a couple of Christmas Carol films. I started chronologically with the oldest films I could find. I watched the 1935 film with Seymour Hicks and the 1938 film with Reginald Owen. I’ll work my way up to more recent films. I have a couple of favorites, the Alastair Sims and the Patrick Stewart versions.

Years ago, my mother, my sister and I went to Boston’s Wang theater to watch the play of A Christmas Carol. The tickets were a Christmas present from me, and I sprang for great seats. We were thoroughly enjoying the play. We were toward the end after Scrooge had been transformed and was about to announce he was as giddy as a schoolboy when the fire alarm sounded. At first people just looked around then it was announced we had to leave the theater. We were by an exit so we were out in only a couple of minutes. We stood outside. The people with the balcony seats took a long time to exit. They had to walk down sets of metal fire escape stairs before hitting the ground. There was no fire and no smoke. We never saw the ending of the play, the best part.

My sister in Colorado and her family came out for Christmas one year. My mother got tickets to A Christmas Carol at the North Shore Theater. We had gone to see it a few years earlier, and the costumes and effects were amazing, but I chose not to go; instead, I went with my brother-in-law and two nephews to see the Celtics. It was their last game on the parquet floor in the old Garden. We were allowed on the floor to take pictures. We stood by the mascot, Lucky the Leprechaun, in the middle of the court and took several. The Celts won. After the game, we went to the North End for dinner. It was a wonderful day.

When I was a kid, we often went to Boston at Christmas. We walked all around the Common where the trees were covered in lights. There were pens with reindeer, and people skating on Frog Pond. My father once bought roasted chestnuts from a cart for us to taste. I thought they were gross. We’d walk to the department stores, a couple of blocks over, to see their windows. I remember being awed, open-mouthed, at all the animation. Christmas in Boston is always one my of my favorite Christmas memories.

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